


Selfish

by Talsi74656



Series: Talsi's Twelve Days of Ficmas [3]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-04 13:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5335469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talsi74656/pseuds/Talsi74656
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After nearly losing Chakotay on an away mission, Kathryn decides to be selfish.</p><p>On the third day of ficmas Talsi gave to me, three broken ribs</p><p>This is the third fic in Talsi's Twelve Days of Ficmas</p>
            </blockquote>





	Selfish

**Author's Note:**

> This was also promptless and basically came about because I had to drop one of my other ideas (which was looking far too large to accomplish in the time I had left).

I pace the bridge again, anxious for any news. There hasn’t been an update in – minutes, I can’t wait.  
  
“Harry?” I turn to the young ensign’s console. I know my eyes are full of fear and concern, I can’t help it. I can’t hide it. Not this time.  
  
He shakes his head with a sad frown.  
  
My breathing has become laboured and my hands are shaking, but I can’t give up, not yet. Who knows what the crew on the bridge are thinking. Would I do this for any of them? Would I fight tooth and nail to get them back? I would, of course I would. But would I be so afraid that I’d fail?  
  
Tuvok’s console begins to beep, shocking me out of my melancholic musings. My eyes whip to him and I wait patiently for his update.  
  
“I am detecting weapons fire on the surface,” he speaks.  
  
My stomach is roiling. “How much weapons fire? Is it our team?”  
  
Tuvok frowns and shakes his head. “I am only detecting one phased energy weapon.”  
  
I hold my breath and glance toward the screen as though I might be able to see the action, if I focus hard enough. He is still alive, alive enough to fight. That was something. More than I knew a moment ago.  
  
Absently I start rubbing my hands together. I’m waiting, useless and waiting for Harry to tell me the team has made contact, they’ve found him and they are returning. Or worse, I’m waiting for Tuvok to tell me that the phaser fire has stopped.  
  
I don’t like this, not at all. I should have led the team. I shouldn’t have listened to Tuvok. I want to curse him, curse his warning that a Captain might provide a more fetching target. I want to leave the bridge and join my crew. There are so many things that I want, yet I stand my ground. I’ve resisted what I want for years, why should this be any different?  
  
With a great deal of effort I decide to take control of myself. I force myself to exhale and I move to my chair. My confidence lifts the moment I touch this seat. Here I am indestructible, unchallengeable, a warrior. There’s a reason I don’t often take communiques from hostile aliens in this seat.  
  
“Harry, open hailing frequencies with the base,” I command.  
  
“Captain?” Tuvok questions me. He knows me well, he knows I’m about to do some posturing.  
  
I haven’t forgotten about their weapons platforms. I know Voyager doesn’t stand a chance in a direct confrontation with this regime. That’s not the point. The point is to bluff, to puff myself up like the bigger animal and show my teeth.  
  
Surely they want to avoid a direct confrontation as much as I do. Surely they want to prevent any casualties. So, I need to scare them.  
  
“Aye, Captain,” Harry responds.  
  
The screen switches to the man who proclaims himself the Dorchant, he sneers as though I’ve already made my threat.  
  
“I’ve told you, Captain, your man violated our laws. He is to be captured and will face justice here.”  
  
Chakotay did nothing of the sort, of course. He’d been mid-negotiations when the Dorchant attempted to seize the crew. Further investigation found that members of other visiting parties had vanished, apparently charged with one ridiculous law, or another. It was all for some sickening hunt.  
  
“Oh, you’ve made your intentions very clear,” I respond without the honour of his title. “Now let me make _myself_ clear.” I fix him with my hardest glare. “Tuvok, lock phasers onto their capital.”  
  
Tuvok knows me very well. He trusts me, knows that this is a bluff, so he complies.  
  
“What is this?” the Dorchant splutters.  
  
“Me making myself clear,” I snap in response. “Stand your men down. Lower your barrier and allow my crew member to return, or I will burn your city to the ground.”  
  
He stares at me, weighing and measuring, trying to figure out whether my threat is serious. “Our platforms would destroy you,” he responds. I can hear a tremulous note to his voice. He’s trying to call my bluff, but he isn’t sure.  
  
“How much damage can I do before then?” I ask. “Voyager is a sturdy vessel, I’d wager we can take your power out and beam our crew back before you do too much damage.”  
  
Now I stand. This is where it matters, this moment, this showdown. Can I convince him that I’m serious? If I can’t then not only have I damned my team, but I may have damned my ship too.  
  
I lower my head, my glare intensifies and I meet his gaze with every ounce of fury I can muster. A fury borne of nearly seven years of bullies and bad guys, of constantly losing and giving up everything that matters.  
  
He stares and for a heartbeat I think he’s about to call me. I think that I’ve just killed Chakotay and damned Tom, Rollins and Ayala. But then he leans back in his chair.  
  
“Very well, Captain,” he growls. He flicks as hand at someone off screen.  
  
“Captain, the barrier has dropped,” Harry reports.  
  
“Get them out of there,” I bark. “Beam them to sickbay.” I don’t know if Chakotay’s injured, I’m afraid to find out.  
  
The viewscreen reverts to an image of the planet and I see the platforms begin to charge.  
  
“When they’re aboard get us out of here!”  
  
Voyager is struck, despite our haste. I fall forward, into the railing, my ribs cracking against the beam. My first concern is my ship. Another blast has me on the ground, but I see open space on the viewscreen, we’ve jumped out of the system.  
  
“All stop,” I groan. My chest is throbbing, my arm burning, but I don’t care about any of that at the moment. I push myself to my feet and turn to face Operations. “Damage report?”  
  
Harry glances first to me, then to Tuvok as though trying to see whether he should comply with my request. I want to snap at him but Tuvok’s raised brow is enough to tell him who he truly answers to.  
  
“There are micro fractures on deck four and five and deflector control is down,” the ensign answers. “Only minor injuries reported.”  
  
“Captain, perhaps you should go to sickbay?” Tuvok suggests.  
  
Even if I hadn’t been injured I’d make my way down there, now.  
  
“Get us back on course,” I order. I turn to Tuvok and with a small smile, I nod. If he’s surprised by my easy compliance, he doesn’t show it. Then again maybe he knows that I have an ulterior motive?  
  
Regardless, I leave unhindered and make my way to sickbay.  
  
I am in pain, I walk clutching my side, but we did it, we got them back.  
  
I enter sickbay, the team is there. Chakotay is there, alive and awake and seemingly uninjured. My elation doesn’t last long though. The dull throb in my ribs intensifies again – and suddenly I can’t breathe.

***=/\=***

When I wake I see him. He is smiling brilliantly, dimples prominent on honey cheeks, eyes glistening in that way they do when I see him.  
  
I’m not surprised to see him here. He’s always here whenever I’ve been injured. I want to laugh about the circumstances. Before I came to sickbay I thought I’d be in his position.  
  
“Welcome back, Captain,” I hear the Doctor say. I hadn’t even noticed that he was standing on the other side of the bio-bed.  
  
“What happened?” I ask. I take stock of my body before gingerly making an attempt to sit up. Chakotay tries to help me; the Doctor glowers at him and pushes me back down.  
  
“You had three broken ribs and a collapsed lung,” the hologram explains in a rather passive aggressive tone.  
  
I don’t respond. I’ll just get the lecture, ‘you should take better care,’ or ‘perhaps you should avoid the centre of the bridge when you know Voyager’s about to be attacked,’ or –  
  
“Honestly, Captain, next time you might like to think about being beamed here, yourself,” he grumbles. “That’s if there even is a next time.”  
  
I can’t help it, I smirk. Oh, I try hard not to, but I survived and Chakotay’s alive. I couldn’t be happier.  
  
He snaps his tricorder shut and gives a frustrated huff. “But don’t you worry, I’ll be here to save your life,” he mutters as he makes his way back to his office. “Again,” I hear before he’s out of earshot.  
  
Chakotay watches him with an amused grin before returning his attention to me.  
  
“I heard what you did,” he tells me.  
  
And now I’m waiting for another lecture.  
  
Instead Chakotay smiles softly. “It was close, Kathryn,” he remarks. With a sigh he shakes his head as though lost in the memory of the moment. “If you hadn’t threatened the Dorchant when you did –” he pauses, expression growing serious. “I don’t think I’d be here.”  
  
This isn’t familiar territory for us. Oh sure, one or both of us have been near death before – probably more times than is suitable for a Starfleet officer. But this is different, he is different. I can’t explain it. There’s a sorrow deep within his eyes, it’s not easy to spot but I know him well, better than I’ve known anyone, I think. He tries to hide it by glancing away.  
  
“Chakotay,” I manage. This is my attempt to get him to talk and to offer comfort. I sit up and place a hand on his shoulder as I consider whether I should press him further.  
  
He glances at my hand and smiles as though I’ve just said something amusing.  
  
“You almost got yourself killed trying to rescue me,” he attempts to explain.  
  
I’m not really sure I follow so I tilt my head to the side inquisitively.  
  
“It wasn’t that bad,” I respond cautiously.  
  
He blinks and fixes me with a stern expression. “Not that bad? You had a collapsed lung.”  
  
“But I got you back,” I say before I can stop myself.  
  
Chakotay stands straight, his countenance becoming neutral, or perhaps thoughtful. “I don’t want you to die for me,” he sounds insulted.  
  
I’m not too sure what’s happening here. He knows I’d happily sacrifice my life for any member of this crew and it wasn’t as though I went out of my way to be injured. This is a far cry from the man who, a minute ago, was on the verge of thanking me for saving his life.  
  
“I have to head to the bridge,” he says.  
  
Before I can really react he’s out the door, leaving me more than a little confused.  
  
I’m not in any pain. With a cursory glance at the Doctor’s office I hop off my bio-bed and chase after Chakotay wearing nothing but a medical gown, not even shoes. I’m sure the Doctor is coming after me and I know that Chakotay must be close to the turbolift so I run around the corner and catch the lift door.  
  
Sometimes I get a sneaking suspicion that I’m doing something crazy. Each time I think: _Kathryn, this is about the most insane thing you’ve done_. I believe this might be the last time I think that.  
  
“What the hell are you doing, Kathryn?” Chakotay snaps. “You just had major surgery.”  
  
“Deck nine,” I request. He gives me a strange look, but deck nine is mostly uninhabited and I don’t want the Doctor interrupting our conversation.  
  
“What was that about?” I press him, ignoring his own question.  
  
“I’m on duty,” he retorts, emphasising each syllable.  
  
I give him a frank look. “Oh, that explains your irritation,” I respond sardonically.  
  
He rolls his eyes and moves his gaze back to the door.  
  
He isn’t going to tell me before the lift stops and honestly I don’t want anyone else walking in right now. If I can I’d like to avoid the rest of the crew seeing me running around the ship in a medical gown.  
  
“Computer, halt turbolift.”  
  
With a sniff he meets my gaze again and I see that sadness is still there, deep and hidden by his irritation. I think I understand why he’s upset. I wouldn’t say it’s obvious and it’s something I hadn’t considered for some time. He’s still in love with me and he was afraid of losing me.  
  
“I couldn’t lose you,” I admit quietly. We’ve moved into a comfortable friendship, but I’d be lying to myself if I thought I wasn’t still in love with him. He’s kept me going all these years. If he’d died today – or yesterday - whenever it was, I don’t know that I would be able to continue.  
  
I see the irritation drain from his eyes, replaced by something else; fear.  
  
“And I couldn’t lose you,” he responds finally.  
  
My heart does something it hasn’t done in a rather long time, it skips a beat. I have that ridiculous sensation that I’m floating. I stand corrected on my earlier comment because despite years of internal protestations that a relationship between us wouldn’t work out here, I’m about to do something crazy, possibly the _craziest_ thing I’ve ever done.  
  
I reach up and cup his cheek. This isn’t the first time I’ve done this, it’s such a common occurrence, in fact, that he gives me a weak smile as though this is all he expects.  
  
But today and for the rest of our journey I want to be selfish.  
  
Without my shoes I’m much smaller than he is, so I need to pull him toward me. He moves willingly, though his eyes are searching mine, trying to make sure this is something I want.  
  
I smile with all the confidence I can muster, right now I can’t remember why I ever thought this might be a bad idea. My feelings were always present. Any foolish command mistakes I might have made due to those feelings have probably already been made.  
  
Our lips touch and for the first time since we arrived in the Delta Quadrant I feel alive. I drink in his taste and his scent as we explore each other’s lips and tongues. His kiss is delicate and loving, and at the same time a powerful expression of his desire. I need to pull away before we do something even crazier in a turbolift. This is no place for that kind of activity.  
  
Breathless I meet his eyes which now hold a mixture of shock, love and longing.  
  
“I –” he mutters awkwardly.  
  
“I love you,” I pre-empt him.  
  
He blinks a couple of times before giving a cheeky grin. “I was going to say that I wasn’t expecting that when I woke up this morning.”  
  
I shove his arm playfully, prompting him to laugh.  
  
After a moment he takes my hands in his. “I love you, Kathryn,” and I know it to be true. I know it has been for a long time and will be for longer still.

Merry Christmas


End file.
